


A wolf is not a slave.

by TheBiPenguin



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Teen Wolf, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-28 18:52:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7652818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBiPenguin/pseuds/TheBiPenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is building on my AU "Through my eyes" in which Derek has been staying with another pack following being left behind (Thought dead) in mexico. </p><p>Once he is confident he knew how to be the Alpha he was always trying to be, Derek returns to Beacon Hills to take care of the pack he loves. The only problem is that a year on a lot has changed...especially one person whom Derek had never wanted to change. </p><p>This is the story of Derek earning the last thing he needs to claim his position as Alpha of the new Hale pack, his Alpha-mate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Changling

**Author's Note:**

> I warned for death of a major character, but it's not really. No one dies, but there will be graphic reference to a character who is already dead in canon, which is unpleasant so I thought I'd warn to be on the safe side.
> 
> This ended up being much heavier than I originally intended, sorry about that! Everything works out okay in the end, I promise! The end is kinda sappy and gross but I couldn't help myself. 
> 
> Hope you like it :) Any constructive feedback welcome x

Stiles was having the worst day.

He had two case studies due in tomorrow, which he thought he'd got a handle on until both final drafts had been thrown out by his professors that morning. He'd also dropped his coffee colliding with a less than forgiving stranger before he'd even got a sip of it. But, worst of all, above and beyond worse of all, his magic was still acting up. It just wouldn't let up. Normally, he had fairly predictable flare ups, like a supernatural time of the month, which he'd been dealing with for about a year, but it had been a week now and this most recent flare up was showing absolutely no sign of abating.

This morning he'd woken by falling five feet onto his mattress from where he'd apparently be levitating near the ceiling. While this was a nightly occurrence now, Stiles hadn't counted on slamming his hand down on the ringing alarm in frustration only to find it melting into a disgusting mound of scorched plastic beneath his palm only a moment later. That was a new one.

It was with a sense of great exhaustion that he nudged open the backdoor to the house he, Scott, Allison, Lydia and Jackson all rented together while they were in college and ditched the armful of textbooks he'd been carrying onto the kitchen counter. He'd just flicked the switch on the coffee machine when he heard a the scuffle of shoes on the hardwood floor of the front hall. He didn't have werewolf senses, but, he thought that he'd definitely become more aware of his surroundings since Scott had been bitten and everything had become so...complicated. 

This was very possibly why the darkly dressed figure in their hall didn't hear Stiles coming until he cleared his throat behind him. The figure jumped up, startled and spun round. The face it wore knocked the air from Stiles' lungs.

Derek. His features were less taught, their once familiar tension gone. His skin looked more browned than Stiles ever remembered seeing it, but, there was no doubt about it. It was Derek's face looking back at him, expressionless.

"Fucking Changling!" He snarled. Flames leaping up around his raised fingertips. The demons eyes widened but still it didn't respond. Stiles raised his arm above hi head, preparing to deliver the deadly burning arc he'd become familiar with using and then getting straight back to his coffee and schoolwork. Still the demon didn't move.

"Stiles!" Scott's voice seemed to appear out of nowhere as he and Allison materialized at the foot of the stairs. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"Taking out the demonic trash, Scottie." Stiles' eyes never left the Changling, who, even in the face of a fiery death, seemed rooted to the spot.

"That's not a Changling!" Allison exclaimed "It's Derek!"

Stiles' laugh was more bitter and mournful than he wished it had been. "Derek's dead."

At last the Changling seemed to regain control of itself, shaking it's head vigorously.

"He survived." Scott seemed determined to make up for the Changling's muteness. "Really, Stiles. It's him. Ask him something."

"Alright then." Stiles smiled wickedly, already anticipating the Demon's failure "Derek. Where was our first kiss?"

Confusion crossed the Changling's face, if only for a moment. "In the ER. You'd crashed your Jeep. We both cried."

The fire died in Stiles' hands. It was him. It was Derek Fucking Hale. 

He felt as though his entire body had turned to ice. The air around him went frigid as his magic flew into overdrive. With a sharp swirl of his wrist, the house's double front doors flew open and Derek was propelled through the air and out onto the sidewalk. His heavily muscled body hit the ground with a thump and rolled a few times before coming to a halt by the curb. The doors slammed shut with a window shaking crash behind him.

Stiles whirled on the stunned couple. "How long have you known?" he was practically screaming.

"Half an hour." Scott stammered.

"Not even that." Allison nodded furiously.

"He just dropped by out of the blue. Stiles, he needs to speak to us. All of us."

"I don't give a fuck what he wants or says he needs." Stiles' eyes burned, but he refused to let even a single tear fall free. "I don't wanna see him. I don't wanna hear about him and I do NOT want him in our house." he snatched his car keys back off the hook and headed back towards the kitchen.

"Stiles', where are you going?" Allison tried to follow but Scott held he back, wisely Stiles thought.

He didn't reply. Just slammed the door, got in the Jeep and drove.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It was gone ten o'clock when Stiles eventually pulled into the driveway again. Approaching from the town centre side of the house, he entered through the front doors, hung up his hoodie and followed the voices into the lounge. 

The pack was sat around in a rough circle of sofas and bean bags. In addition to his housemates, Erica, Boyd and Issac had obviously been invited over from their apartment across town. It was Isaac who spotted him first, his puppy-like expression crossed with worry. "Hey, buddy." the rest of the pack turned to him in unison "You okay?" 

Stiles nodded stiffly. "What've I missed." 

 

Pained looks were exchanged between the pack-mates. Eventually, it was Jackson that spoke. "We met with Derek." 

 

Stiles slowly crossed his arms across his chest. "That was fast." 

 

Scott tried to wade in. "He says he's back for good now."

 

"Is that a promise or a threat?" Stiles cocked an eyebrow.

 

Lydia shrugged "Told you he'd agree with me." she preened

 

"Doesn't matter. you're still outvoted." Jackson pointed out, earning him a vicious looking scowl.

 

"Outvoted on what, exactly?" Surrounded by wolves, Stiles willed his heartbeat to steady, to not betray his anxiety. He failed. 

 

"They want Derek to be our new Alpha." Lydia laughed disbelievingly. 

 

"No." Stiles response was immediate. 

 

"Stiles." Allison soothed. "He's been learning from an Alpha from a pack in Mexico who took him in after we got separated, he's changed. And we're all a part of the Hale lineage, like it or not. He's the only Alpha-Hale and we need an Alpha."

 

"And we're just taking his word for it?" Stiles countered "Why don't we just bring back psycho-uncle too while we're at it." Stiles was no wolf, but the change in atmosphere would've been obvious to a vegetable "You're kidding me!" 

 

"I know." Lydia shook her head, red locks dancing around her pale neck. 

 

"I was dubious too." Isaac spoke up. "But Derek says that they were with the Mexican pack together. He's come a long way." 

 

"He was here?" Stiles tone was incredulous "He tried to kill us! Multiple times! He tore Laura Hale in two!" 

 

The pack eyed each other uncomfortably. "Derek said he's recovered." Erica chimed in. "And we trust Derek." 

 

"We trust Derek." Stiles echoed. "In which case we really are screwed."

 

"I don't like it either." Allison's voice was pleading now. "But we're outvoted." 

 

Stiles flashed the cruel smirk he was becoming too used to for hid own liking. "Well, I'm not a wolf. So, I'll make up my own mind, thanks." 

  
Scott's mouth dropped open. Everyone looked appalled. "But, you're still pack!" he gasped

 

"I'm not bound by pack bonds." He clarified "If you insist on tethering yourselves to that power mad manipulator and his murdering relatives, leave me out of it." With that he turned and stalked up the stairs to his room, leaving the pack in dumbfounded silence. 


	2. Earning it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles learns to adjust to having Peter and Derek back in the pack. 
> 
> Derek discovers that even if he's ready to be Alpha, Stiles isn't.

Stiles had dreaded telling his dad.

He told him at the end of their weekly lunch the next day. He was never willing to keep things from his dad these days. It wasn't as if he didn't know about the supernatural anyway. There was a long silence before the Sheriff responded.

"I know. Melissa called me as soon as Scott called her. How do you feel?"

Stiles shrugged. "I don't think they're a threat if that's what you're asking."

"Me neither." Stiles felt genuinely reassured. He might doubt his own judgement at times but he never doubted his dad. "They came to see me this morning. Derek explained why he stayed away so long. Said he needed to learn how to be a proper Alpha and that Peter needed time to recover and come to terms with everything that happened."

Stiles nodded bleakly.

"I did call him a prick for not contacting you." His dad assured. "I totally agree with you on that."

"I just don't understand. We've finally got our lives under control." Stiles laid his head in his hands, remembering all the work it had taken to establish territory boundaries and make it clear they were to be respected, purging all the demons stalking around Beacon Hills and then keeping up with hunting down new arrivals.

"Why would we let their drama into our heads again?" He sighed, exasperated.

"I don't know, kiddo." The Sheriff squeezed his son's shoulder warmly. "Melissa says Scott feels that he can't be acting-Alpha forever. That the pack needs someone whose been taught properly by another Alpha to guide them. But this is going to happen, the pack's decided."

He shook Stiles gently, bringing their gazes together. "They're your family, Stiles. Make it work."

He nodded. "I know. As the Hales say," Stiles put on his gruffest werewolf voice " _pack is everything._ "

His dad's eyes crinkle as he smiled back at him. They both knew it. Family was everything. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was Wednesday, pizza and movie night. Stiles had two more lectures after lunch with his dad then headed home, dropping by the pizza place on his way. 

He cast a cautious glance up and down the street before using magic to open the front door, his arms full of boxes. The pack were all gathered in the lounge, frame-flattering daytime clothes abandoned for tracksuits and baggy T-shirts. 

The smiling face of Peter Hale eyed Stiles, he chose to ignore it, depositing the pizzas and large bottles of cola onto the coffee table. The room closed in as people reached inwards, exactly like a pack of wolves, to reach their long awaited meal. 

"Cheers." Jackson pushed himself up of a beanbag beside Derek's and reachrf round Stiles to the table. "Lydia picked the movie by the way." He warned

"Not the notebook." Stiles groaned 

"No!" Lydia sounded affronted. Her pretty face contorted as she tried to tear of a bite of pizza without smudging her lipstick. "The Titanic." She brandished the box with the iconic image on the front at him. "It's a classic. I can't believe none of you have seen it." 

"I've seen it." Peter pointed out through a mouthful "But then, I am a bit older than you kids."

Stiles headed for the kitchen without comment. "I'll get glasses." 

He'd lined up ten tumblers from the cupboard on the counter top when Derek appeared behind him. "Do you want a hand?" 

Stiles froze for a second. With a sharp snap of his long fingers he sent the tumblers soaring off out the door into the lounge. "Thanks." He smiled sarcastically as he turned to face Derek's handsome features. "I got it." 

"Stiles." Derek's voice was pained "I'm sorry. I needed to learn how to do this properly." he sucked in a deep breath as Stiles stared at him blankly. "I want to do this well. To be able to look after you guys," 

"Don't." Stiles warned. "You couldn't even be bothered to text me and let me know you were alive, let alone back in the country. The pack has decided this is what they want. So we're going to make it work." He dropped his voice to a vicious whisper, hoping to sound of the films opening sequence would cover it. 

"But I am not a wolf." he stepped into Derek's space. Derek, to his credit, held his ground. "And you are not my Alpha." 

Derek's eyes were wet, his breathing ragged. Stiles barely spared them a moment before stomping back into the lounge and taking his place on sofa next to Lydia.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rest of the evening was uneventful. The titanic was sad-ish, Allison was in tears on Scott's shoulder and Isaac was in tears on Stiles'. Derek looked more uncomfortable than upset, casting Stiles and Isaac glances every few minutes. He chose to ignore them. 

Lydia and Jackson seemed unaffected, as did Erica and Boyd, who had to take the snuffling Isaac home. Derek and Peter left at the same time, the pack all hugging at the front door, scent marking by rubbing their cheeks against each other, 

Stiles stood stoic as he made brief contact with Peter's stubbly face. He made it mercifully short. He left Derek until last, hoping that he could leave him out without anyone noticing. He had no such luck. Everyone was watching expectantly. 

Stiles practically flinched as Derek took his slender shoulders in his arms, the familiar scent overwhelming even to Stiles dull human nose. Derek's breath caught as they made contact. An affronted whimper escaped Stiles' throat and Derek pulled away quickly. Saying goodnight, they parted and Stiles went to bed before anyone could question. 

That was largely the pattern for the next few weeks. The whole or most of the pack gathered every evening at the house, Erica and Boyd's apartment was too small and Derek's was barely furnished. 

Stiles disengaged as much as possible. Hiding in his room and eating at his desk. To be fair, he had a growing mountain of studying to do. His desk was becoming a chaotic swamp of post-its and posters covered the walls. In any free time he did have he spent with a scrying crystal, pinning down demonic intruders in their territory and then driving out each night to relieve a little stress on them. 

Initially, Derek had railed against that. He tried to insist Stiles took back up, but refused to push when Stiles declined. He punched his number into Stiles' phone so he could call for Alpha backup if he needed it. Stiles wasn't even sure if asking for Derek's help was preferable to being torn apart by aggrieved demons, but he thanked him anyway. He never came up against anything he couldn't handle, Changlings, Furies and one succubus, which was a first. That had been a bit of a close call, he was still a guy after all, but she was the one that ultimately got fried. He never mentioned it to the pack and they didn't ask. Derek always waited at the house until he returned to check he was okay, under the pretense of just hanging out with the rest of the pack despite it frequently reaching one AM before Stiles returned. 

Five weeks later, he returned from his final exam of the semester and tore down the posters, binned the papers and shelved the books for the summer. He was coming back into the house, having just taken out the amazing total of three bags of trash from his little room, when Scott came bounding up to him, practically pinning him against the front door. 

"Hey man!" He beamed "Summers here. We're thinking barbecue tonight. You game?" 

"Sure." Stiles wondered if he was powerful enough to somehow vanish himself for the evening. He tried to smile casually "I've got a couple more of our little friends to take care of tonight but I should be there for some of it." 

Scott's face fell. "Seriously, dude?! You're out hunting demons every night, even during exams. Peter thinks you're dodging pack bonding." 

Scott was Stiles' best friend, no competition, but he could be oblivious. 

"That's bullshit." He shrugged, edging round Scott from the corner he was trapped in. 

"Let Derek help maintain the boundaries." Scott pleaded, grabbing Stiles' arm to keep him near. 

He sighed "Tolerating demons in our territory tells our rivals we're afraid of a fight." He explained, not for the first time. "Deaton says to fight magic with magic so unless Derek picked some of that up in Mexico, that would be me." he pulled out of Scott's grip and went back up to his room, locking the door behind him. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"He's not listening." Scott was perched on the kitchen counter. Most of the pack was in bed, asleep on a belly full of hot dogs. Stiles was out hunting, again. 

Lydia rapped her manicured nails against the fridge as she leaned on it. "He's not a wolf and he's using that as an excuse to pull away from us." she agreed.

Derek furrowed his brow, trying to puzzle it out. "He's avoiding me." 

"Gee. Do you think?" Peter's louder than necessary voice caught their attention. "You're the Alpha. Bring him into line."

Lydia shook her head so violently Derek thought it might come off. "Are you still mad?!" She glared at him. 

"I agree," Scott affirmed. "Stiles is feeling trapped. He didn't want to do this and trying to make him will be met with maximum resistance and he could try to leave to pack altogether." 

"He wouldn't...would he?" Lydia looked terrified. Scott shrugged helplessly.

"He can't." Peter said bluntly. "He might not be a wolf but he's bonded into the pack. Derek, he's your Alpha-mate! He might be able to use his magic to suppress it without the Mate-bite, but give him that and he won't be able to fight it any more. A strong Alpha-couple will put an end to this rubbish and to the constant flow of challengers crossing our borders." 

"No!" Derek's voice was firm, but it was immediately overrun. 

"He's what?!" Lydia and Scott exclaimed together. Derek threw his uncle a dangerous look, but he simply shrugged.

Derek took a slow breath before explaining. "Part of the process of becoming a proper Alpha is being aware of how and who you're bonded with and understanding how those bonds affect you...I'd never realized we'd become bonded. Neither did Stiles." He hung his head.

"That's why Stiles' magic is off." Lydia was flying ahead as usual. "The mate-bond is supposed to stabilize, but he's clamping down on it with his magic without even knowing." 

"Exactly." Peter nodded. "And once he stops, he and Derek will be powerful enough to rule Beacon Hills with ease. Just do it." he urged.

"I said no!" Derek repeated. "Pack bonds are about trust. You have to prove yourselves to each other. Stiles has proved himself a hundred times over and now it's my turn. Trust can't be taken by force. You earn it."

Scott smiled, Lydia just nodded. "Any idea how to do that?" she asked

"No." he admitted. "But Stiles can't know. Not yet. He'll think I'm making it up or somehow made it happen to trap him. Once I've figured out how to prove myself to him and he trusts me I'll tell him." 

"Okay." Scott agreed "But don't Alphas normally prove themselves by providing and protecting?" 

"Yeah." Peter looked pointedly at Derek "But Stiles won't let Derek go hunting with him and Derek can't just dump gifts on him without it being blatant and Stiles figuring it out." 

"We can't keep this from the pack." Lydia decided suddenly. "Stiles we need to protect, he won't cope with it if he finds out now. But the others deserve to know and we can't justify keeping it from them." 

The men all nodded.

"I'll tell them in the morning." Derek agreed. 

The front door clicked shut as Stiles came in. He didn't come into the kitchen, although he must have seen the light, but went straight upstairs. The four wolves said a hushed goodnight as Peter and Derek let themselves out the back door. 


	3. Hunters and the hunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles finds out. 
> 
> Nuff said. 
> 
> Enjoy :) All feedback appreciated x

Something was up.

Stiles wasn't stupid. He might not have werewolf senses, but he certainly wasn't stupid. The whole pack was acting weird, he almost felt like he'd done something wrong. He knew they were pissed about him skipping pack bonding time, but this seemed too sudden a change. It was almost as if something had happened overnight and now everyone was...he wasn't sure. Tiptoeing round him? Being extra civil, for sure, but in a kind of uncomfortable distant way. Even Jackson had asked if he'd wanted anything when he'd headed to the shops that morning. It'd been like it for days now.

On the sixth day, he cornered Scott and Isaac as they came in from lacrosse practice. They'd just thrown down their bags in the hall, their flushed faces drew out into awkward grins as he approached.

"Alright. Spit it out." He demanded. Their faces paled.

"Spit what out?" Scott stammered

"Scottie. Whatever has everyone acting all weird. That's what." he pressed. "Come on, guys. Pack don't keep things from each other."

"Pack also come to bonding." Scott tried to point out, hoping Stiles would join in more to get information. It backfired.

"Wow. Okay, Cheers pal." Stiles fair face looked as if it'd just been slapped, hard. "I miss a couple of sessions to study and go protect our territory and now I'm being walled out? Thanks a lot."

Isaac and Scott exchanged panicked looks "No! That's not what we meant." Isaac balked.

"It's fine." Stiles lied. They heard it. "You guys enjoy rubbing yourselves all over Derek and Peter and I'll figure it out for myself." and with that he was out the front door and gone, leaving a stunned pair of wolves open mouthed in the hallway.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You said what?" Erica's voice was scathing. Slouched on the sofa next to her, Boyd shook his head ruefully. 

"He misunderstood." Allison tried to defend.

"And then bolted." Scott added miserably. "I can't lose him." She took his head in her arms. "He's been there since before I can remember. I couldn't live if I didn't have him with me so I knew he was okay." He was practically in tears. 

"We won't let that happen." Jackson's voice was full of genuine conviction. He and Stiles might not always get on, but they were pack and in moments like that it showed.

"We need to figure out a way to show him how much he means to us all." Isaac looked around the room for ideas. There was a collective moment of silent concentration.

"Later." Derek strode into the lounge, Peter at his heels. "I phoned Stiles' Dad and asked him to keep an eye on him while this is going on. But, right now we have more immediate problems." The pack looked up at him expectantly. "Hunters. Deaton just called."

To their oversensitive ears, the room hissed with the sharp intake of shocked breaths.

"We've not had hunters for nearly eighteen months." Lydia pointed out.

Peter shook his head "They target packs when they're weak. Somehow they must've got the idea we're vulnerable down the supernatural grapevine. How bad is Stiles' magic acting up at the moment?"

Lydia and Jackson's room was next to Stiles'. They cast uneasy glances at each other. "He seems to be having more accidents with it. Even basic telekinetic control." She admitted.

"He tipped his whole wardrobe over trying to pick up a shirt this morning." Jackson clarified.

"He didn't say it had gotten that bad." Isaac's voice had taken on a panicked tone.

"He wouldn't have." Derek supplied. "But if it's been acting up when he's out in public hunting demons...one of them must've realized and got away without being toasted."

"And then blabbed." Peter concluded. 

"Stiles can't go up against them if his magic's that out of control." Boyd cut in. "He'll get killed." 

Everyone nodded their agreement. 

"Hunters aren't magical." Derek pointed out. "We don't need Stiles to handle this one for us. Peter, Scott and I will scout round the preserve tomorrow after dark, since that's properly where they're camped. We'll look at planning an attack before they find out where we're living after that." 

"How long until the Hale-house will be ready for us all to move into?" Erica pulled her mess of blonde curls out of her face. "Cause I'd bet that's where they'll look for us first. They won't look this far into town straight away. Most packs feel too likely to be exposed living where the population's this dense." 

"Another five of six weeks." Peter guessed, turning to Derek "I don't suppose Stiles knows that yet either?"

His nephew shrugged his tense shoulders  awkwardly. "They still have six months of their lease left on this house. You guys have four on your apartment. We have the same on ours. We have time. Let's get a decent nights sleep tonight and we can worry about it all tomorrow." 

"Murdering psychos first." Jackson smirked. No one laughed. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stiles was exhausted. 

He was working double shifts in a grocery store to earn money over the summer. He'd been up since six AM after a night of demon hunting, Deaton said that a neighboring pack had called about a necromancer heading their way, which had given their pack trouble a month or so ago. Stiles hadn't been able to find anything unusual though despite being out past two. He'd then worked a ten hour shift and got a very late dinner with his dad because a shift change had left him on duty during their usual lunch and now it was ten thirty. 

He shrugged off his hoodie lazily in the hall and went straight for the coffee machine. He may not have found that necromancer but that didn't mean it wasn't there, or that it didn't see him. Which meant he had a long night of research to do before heading out looking for it again. 

He hadn't even lifted the cup to his lips when he heard someone come crashing through the front doors. He set the mug down and followed the sound into the hall. Erica and Boyd had been in the lounge and jackson and Lydia were in their room. They all met to find a ragged looking Peter and Scott panting by the doors. 

"They have Derek." Scott breathed. 

"What?!" Boyd's voice was thunder. "How the hell did that happen?" 

"Flares." Peter took over. "We only smelled two of them, but they'd laid flares all over the place. We couldn't see a thing. By the time it'd cleared they were gone."

"And so was Derek." Scott was regaining his voice, but he was still breathing hard, his hands pressed to his thighs for support. 

"He can't be dead." Lydia assured "We'd have felt the pack-bond break." 

"No." Peter agreed "He's not dead. But he will be soon if we don't find him." 

"How?" Stiles voice was barely a squeak, his sleep deprived brain failing to power-up. 

Peter's harsh blue eyes met his. "You know how to astral project, kid?" 

"Duh." Stiles leveled. "Oldest one in the book. But I can't do it if I don't know where I'm projecting to." 

Peter's response was immediate "Not where. Who. You can use your bond to Derek to project to him, wherever he is." 

The rest of the pack glared at him. Lydia looked like her eyes might burst with the intensity of it. Peter seemed heedless to their warnings. Stiles didn't respond, he had no idea what Peter was talking about. It must have shown on his face because the next thing he knew, Peter had this arms in a vice like grip, their faces less than a foot apart. 

"Come on, Stiles!" He barked "You must've felt it. He's your Alpha for fuck's sake!" He shook Stiles, not hard but enough to seriously upset his already distressed mind. His eyes burned and his lip wobbled. He couldn't breathe. 

"That's enough, Peter!" Jackson yelled. Peter ignored him, totally focused on Stiles.

"He is your mate and he is going to die unless you do this." Tears rolled down Stiles' cheeks and his nose began to run. 

"Okay." he sobbed. "How?" 

"Close your eyes." Peter ordered, his grip on Stiles' biceps still painful. "Reach out with you mind. Out of the house, out of the town, out of the whole damn world until there's nothing around your consciousness for as far as it can see." 

Stiles tried. He pushed and he pushed. He sensed people and saw flashes of coloured images. Parks and roads. Eventually the noise and the brightness receded into a quiet black void. He became unaware of Peters grip on him, but from somewhere far away he could still hear his muffled words. 

"Find that one thing that's still tethering you. The only thing that's there when everything else has been left behind." His voice had taken on an ethereal tone. It was almost rrance like. Sure enough there was still one time blip in the void, like a single fireflly flying along through space. He mentally willed himself to chase it, it find out where it was and get to it. It was hard to pin down, every time Stiles thought he was about to reach it he realized he'd misjudged where it was. The bond was weak, he didn't know why. Didn't know how he couldn't have known it was even there. 

Finally, the managed to seize hold of it. It's light spread, filling the void and pulling Stiles back towards earth. Towards Derek. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When the light died down, Stiles found himself kneeling in a dank, dark room. A basement, maybe. He barely noticed. His eyes were drawn immediately to a stainless steel table in the centre of the room. It was like something out of an operating theatre. Derek lay supine, stripped to the waist. He was bruised and bloodied, his body not given a chance to heal. But most worryingly of all, a large drip bag of clear fluid hung above him, emptying itself into his arm through a large needle. 

Stiles crossed the room in two large strides and pulled the needle out. He didn't know what it was but it couldn't be anything good. Derek's eyes were closed, his breathing deep and regular. Stiles shook him, clapped his face lightly but to no avail, he was in a deep slumber. Stiles faultered for a second. There was no way of moving Derek and he still didn't know where they were. Returning to his body would put them back to square one. 

He looked sorrowfully down at Derek's unconscious form and noticed something. He could see the outline of a pone through his jean's pocket! He pulled it free and swiped the lock screen. 

Pass code required. 

Shit! 

It was a four digit code. What would Derek use? Birthdays. Everyone used birthdays. He tried Derek's/ 

Pass code incorrect. 

Shit! 

Derek wasn't that self-involved. Maybe he'd used Laura's? Stiles hoped not, he didn't even have the first idea when that was. He stood staring at the screen for an age before it dawned on him. If Peter knew they were mates, Derek almost certainly knew too. Stiles fingers sprung back into action, punching in the digits of his own birthday. The screened opened. 

His fist pumped the air, the cavalry were coming. He quickly opened the GPS and sent a screenshot to every pack member. One of them would get through. He just had to keep Derek safe until they arrived. For the first time he actual began to take in his surroundings. The lack of windows and ugly fluorescent lights suggested they were indeed under ground, although he still didn't know where. Or it could be some kind of storage unit. There was a long table against one of the walls, it was covered in glass bottles of chemicals Stiles had never heard of. There were knives of varying sizes and even a wicked looking saw. Stiles shuddered, he didn't want to think about what that was for. 

He didn't have time. His head snapped towards the only single door leading into the room. He'd heard voices. Out of his body he had no access to his magic! He scrambled to the long table and began rifling through its contents. Knives, arrows, syringes. His hand's fell triumphantly on a glock. He heard the door locks begin to turn. A woman's voice was now easily recognizable, even as the blood rushed loudly in his ears. 

"You can do what you like while he's human. But once he's shifted, he's mine. An Alpha pelt is too beautiful to ruin and mamma want a new coat." She laughed loudly. 

Stiles' blood boiled. He positioned himself protectively between Derek and the door and took aim. Come to daddy, bitch. He might have a reputation for clumsiness but his dad was the fucking Sheriff. He could shoot a gun before he could walk. The door swung open and a tall, dark haired woman stepped into view. Her sadistic grin fell when she caught site of Stiles. Her hands went for the holster on her hip but never got there as Stiles' first shot hit her squarely in the chest. She fell backwards onto the concrete floor with a thud and was still. 

Her partner, an older man of simialar appearance, drew his gun. Stiles shifted his aim. He heard two simulataneous explosions and saw a flash of light which blinded him as the two bullets flew past each other.

He drew in a huge lungful of air. He wasn't in the room with Derek any more, it was too dark and he had to sensation his was moving. He was in a car, lying on the backseat. He was laying on someone, he could feel thei hands holding him steady. 

"Welcome back kid." Peter's voice was almost a relief to hear. "We didn't think you'd wanna be left behind. We're almost there." 

Stiles' head thumped. his temples pulsating with each rapid heartbeat. "Where?" He choked.

They were in his Jeep. The whole pack had somehow crowded in. Scott spoke from behind the wheel "Warehouse up in the industrial estate." 

Everything else was a blur. Stiles later only vaguely remembered his magic tearing through the warehouse doors. He didn't remember any of the features of the two dead hunters as he crossed to a dazed Derek struggling up from the table, throat working in a nauseated heave. Only once Peter and Boyd hauled Derek out to the Jeep did he even register the small bullet mark on the back wall of the room at exactly his head height.

He didn't care. He was tired, but he felt more alive than he had in months. He'd commanded his magic and it had obeyed. He felt like a knot in his soul had been undone and he could breathe again, body and mind. He swung his arm in a lazy arc and engulfed the room in flames, destroying any trace of their presence, before following the others back out to the Jeep. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

Deaton had said Derek would recover overnight, as soon as the drugs he'd been filled with wore off he'd be able to heal. He was right, as usual. The next day Derek was back at the house, as was everyone else, for pizza and movie night. The pack had let him pick the movie, but he'd chosen the latest Avengers anyway because he knew Isaac and Erica were dying to see it.

True to their routine, Stiles was getting tumblers from the kitchen when Derek approach him for the first time. 

"I know you don't need any help." He looked sheepish. "But I wanted to say thanks." 

Stiles didn't respond.

"For last night." He clarified. "The others told me about what you did to find me. I'd be dead without you, Stiles. So, really. Thank you." 

"No problem." Stiles answer was curt as a he moved to get around Derek, but the larger man took a hold of his wrist. 

"Hey." his voice was sorrowful "I'm sorry. I should've told you. I was going to. I just didn't want you to think I was forcing this on you or anything." Stiles tried to pull away but Derek held firm "WIll you just listen, Stiles? Please." 

"No. You listen." Stiles didn't bother keeping his voice down. "First you abandon me. Then you lie to me. I fucking trusted you, Derek. Both times!" He shook his head ruefully at his own stupidity "And what's worse is you managed to convince all my friends to lie to me as well." 

Derek'd eyes were wide, his face vulnerable. His mouth hung open but no words came out. Stiles didn't let up. "I don't know why you do anything that you do and I'm sick of trying to figure it out. The only thing I know is that I can't trust a single word that comes out of you goddamn mouth." He pulled away, harder

this time. Derek released his grip and watched helplessly as Stiles vanished through the doorway back into the lounge. 

 


	4. A wolf is not a slave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles learns what it really means to be an Alpha-mate. But does that mean it's what he wants? 
> 
> This is the chapter where everything gets sorted out (It's been more intense than I'd originally planned! Sorry about that.) There's still one fight left to be had, but it's not by fighting that Derek proves himself. He knows better than that by now.

It was less than a week before Stiles' magic began acting out again. He'd blown up the toaster when it overdid his toast. He'd been flinging off the sofa cushions to find the remote only to set fire to one of them. It was getting ridiculous. 

He and Scoot had spoken. He'd explained that the pack were only trying to protect him and that they realized now that it was a mistake to keep things from him. Stiles' understood but warned them in no uncertain terms never to do it again. They all nodded their heads obediently.

Obediently.

That's what had been odd the past fortnight. They jumped at his every word. It was like he was already Alpha-mate in their eyes. It made him sick to his stomach. He had not consented to this. The thought of having a lifelong bond with a man he couldn't trust at the age of only nineteen was...it was more than he could handle, they'd been right about that.

But his magic was torturing him into submission. It was draining all his energy and leaving him with it's destructive mess to clean up. 

Worst of all was Peter. Every time Stiles' magic acted out Peter was on him. After the toaster incident he'd come swaggering in to find Stiles wielding the fire extinguisher at it. His grin was smugger than Stiles had ever seen it. 

"You know. One bite from a certain Alpha of ours would set that straight for life." He hummed.

Stiles had had enough. Dropping the extinguisher he turned on Peter, throwing him against the fridge with his magic and pinning him there as he stalked up to him at a deliberate pace, not stopping until their faces were just inches apart. 

"You think I'm too weak to handle this myself?" He snarled. "Let me make something clear to you, pal. With Derek by your side there's only one thing in this whole wide, wicked world you need to be afraid of," He paused dramatically. "And that's me." He flung Perter carelessly in the direction of the doorway and went back to cleaning up the mess that was their toaster. 

Peter laughed as he left, throwing over his shoulder words that cut Stiles straight to the bone. "Spoken like a true Alpha-mate." He preened.

Stiles had cried at that. Alone in the house he'd cried the hardest he had let himself since he'd returned from Mexico, thinking Derek was dead. Derek must have felt it through their newly strengthened bond as he pulled up in the drive and came straight to the kitchen less than twenty minutes later. Worry lined his handsome face and his movements were jerky and nervous.

"Stiles, what's wrong?" His question was simple, but it hit Stiles like a train. He leaned back against the kitchen units, his own weight suddenly too much for him. 

"I give in." He sobbed. Derek looked puzzled so he continued. "I can't fight this. I don't know how we got bonded, but, you know as well as I do that breaking a mate-bond leaves you scarred for life. I don't have that kind of strength." He threw his hands up in defeat. "So if you want me for your bitch, Alpha-Hale, then I guess I'm all yours."

Derek didn't move. His expression had turned to shock. "No." He breathed.

Now it was Stiles' turn to be puzzled. "What?" He stammered dumbly.

"A wolf is not a slave, Stiles. An Alpha and their mate are equals, like all pack mates." Derek spoke slowly, patiently. "Your magic is lashing out because you're trying to suppress our bond, but, you don't need to." he steadied himself, Stiles could see his self control hardening in his eyes. "I won't give you the bite unless you want me to. It's consensual. If you never want it then eventually the bond will fade." His voice broke. He was choking up. "But there's no need to hurt yourself trying to fight it."

Stiles took a moment to reply. "But, you're a wolf. You can't just ignore-"

"That's my problem, Stiles. Not yours." Derek's voice was firm. "Look after yourself. Promise me."

Again, it took a moment for Stiles to process.

"I promise," He whispered.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

That conversation had marked a dramatic change. Peter had gone ballistic that Derek had refused Stiles' offer, such as it was, but Derek had shot him down. Stiles relaxed a little, which pleased his Dad and his magic. 

He regained control! He used his magic for anything and everything, just because he could. It was valuable practice he'd been missing out on. He loved it. Feeling his power flow through his body and escape into the world to carry out his will was like finally being able to exhale a breath he'd been holding, burning in his chest. 

He'd put a stop to the pack's nonsense at their next meet up, Isaac and Peter cooked. They were the only ones who could. Stiles had made a throw away comment about wanting ice cream after, when Erica had moved to get it for him. 

"Jesus." He'd exclaimed. "I can get it myself. Geez." He'd addressed the whole pack at this point. "Look. I don't know whether or not I'm gonna do this whole Alpha-mate thing but, either way. I'm still just Stiles and you guys are family. Nothings gonna change and I don't need my ass kissing. We clear?" 

That'd earned him a proud look from Scott and Lydia but more concerned glances from Derek and Peter, although he suspected for different reasons. He didn't really care. He felt different.

He felt free. The bond was there but he wasn't afraid of it any more. Derek had said he wouldn't give him the bite and make the bond permanent and unyielding unless Stiles gave his explicit consent. Stiles believed him. Derek could've done it there and then. Stiles had submitted, but he didn't. There was something in that respect for Stiles' autonomy that made him less mistrusting. Derek had come a long way. He had needed to stay in Mexico, Stiles understood that. And, he had been right about Stiles being overwhelmed by the idea of being mates, even if he hadn't approached it in the best way. 

In short, he trusted Derek. But how do you start to date a person and find out if you want you and them to be end-game, if you know that agreeing to go down that path is agreeing to be end-game in the first place?

Stiles didn't know how to move forward. At all. If he asked anyone in the pack for advice, he was still making the same statement. That he definitely wanted to be Alpha-mate. 

He was stuck.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Instead, he threw all his energy into finding that damn necromancer. It was still prowling round their territory. His scrying always picked up on it, around every graveyard and funeral parlor in town, but he could never quite catch up with the bastard. 

Eventually, he figured it out. He was trying to track the dead, reading the obituaries and asking his Dad to update him on sudden deaths. But it wasn't the dead the necromancer was targeting, it was the living. A businessman who'd been about to put his biggest rival into bankruptcy, but had been bludgeoned to death despite being a semi-competitive boxer. A young woman who'd married a wealthy pensioner, threatening to cut his two adult children off from their inheritance. She had been throttled, but died with a pistol in her purse. The list went on.

And they all had a dead relative or close friend who had been buried, not cremated. Stiles couldn't trace whether or not their graves had been disturbed, but he could guess. He just had to figure out who the next victim would be. 

That was trickier. Deaton suggested looking for powerful figureheads in Beacon Hills. Not easy in a not-particularly well connected town. His dad pointed out that the current mayor, one John Streather, lost his brother seven years ago in a car crash. Stiles didn't know how long a person had to be dead before they were beyond a necromancer's reach, but the mayor had been ruffling a lot of feathers recently over environmental policy. It seemed like something members of the supernatural community living out in the preserve or downhill at the reservoir, might be riled up about. 

Which is how Stiles found himself wandering through another cemetery after work. The sun had already gone down and he was working by flashlight. He didn't have any real option but to read every grave and hope for the best. He still had no idea how or even if you could find out the exact location someone was buried on within the yard. He'd certainly found no records of it. 

He hadn't been looking any more than five minutes when a noise made him freeze on the spot. It was a soft chuckle, the voice was distinctly female and vibrated through the air with its vitality. He turned to see a beautiful woman in a long black dress perched on a tombstone on the row behind him. She was striking, but, Stiles barely paid her a moments noticed. Crouched in front of her in a torn, yellowing summer dress, was another woman. Her dark hair had fallen away from her peeling scalp in places, the rest of her pale skin was loose and decayed. She snarled, bearing a handful of teeth clinging to blackened gums. The sight of her upturned Stiles' stomach and ripped the air from his chest. 

It was his mother. 

He raised a hand to the Necromancer, but not so much as a flicker of a flame came forth. She winked at him mockingly "What's the matter, little spark?" She cooed. "Wanna see what some real power looks like?" 

The creature launched itself forwards on all fours. Deceptively fast, it knocked the flashlight from Stiles' hands, leaving them grappling in the darkness. His throat expelled a scream which burned its way out of his body, infused with his terror. The creature was heedless to it, its long nails getting torn from their beds as it wrapped its bony fingers around his airway, silencing him. He kicked, its bones cracking under his sneakers, but its grip didn't falter. It had an inhuman amount of strength. 

Stiles' head began to swim. His face was soaked in tears. Somewhere he heard a howl, a fierce war cry of a noise. Derek. Stiles felt his magic surge, his will to live come flooding back. The creature was thrown up into the air with an aggrieved wail. It landed a dozen or so yards away with a crunch, ribs breaking through papery skin and limbs mangling into unnatural shapes. Still it writhed on the spot, throwing Stiles a murderous look as it tried to drag itself towards him.The Necromancer had climbed down from her perch and now stood transfixed. "How?" she breathed. "Who the hell are you?" 

Stiles drew himself to his full height and squared his narrow shoulders. "My name is Stiles Stilinski." He announced "Alpha-mate to Derek Hale." his voice boomed and echoed, shaking the surrounding tombstones. "And how DARE you touch my mother?!" 

The Necromancer shrieked as the long hem of her dress caught alight. Fierce amber flames raced up her slender frame, latching onto her long curls. Her cries lasted barely a second, such was the heat, before she slumped into a melting pool of fat at the foot of the now brightly illuminated gravestone. Stiles turned to the now unmoving, ruined form of Claudia Stilinski. He collapsed before her, but couldn't bring himself to touch her. He howled in anguish, throwing his streaming eyes up to the bright moon, demanding its full eye witness his grief. 

He barely heard the responding howl as Derek broke the treeline and sprinted up to Stiles, seizing him in his arms. Stiles buried himself in Derek's chest, sobbing into his strong frame. He cried until he could cry no more. Derek lifted him practically off his feet and half-carried him to the Jeep. Taking the keys from Stiles' hoodie pocket and drove back to the house in numb silence. They didn't speak as Derek carried Stiles upstairs into his room and laid him in his bed, pulling off his shoes and hanging up his hoodie on the back of the door. 

"Stay with me." Stiles begged, he didn't need to. Derek nodded, kicking his own shoes off and laying alongside his mate, wrapping him up in his muscular arms and kissing the top of his head. 

"I'll text Boyd. He and Erica can put your mum back to rest. I'm so sorry." He voice broke. "I should've got there sooner." Stiles shook his head against Derek's chest. 

"I went alone. That's not your fault." He snuffled. "I thought...I thought I was gonna die." he was shaking "I thought I was gonna die and I heard you howl. I heard you howl and you couldn't have been within earshot.."

Derek didn't respond. 

"Our bond felt me dying and flared up to remind my why I had to live, why I wanted to live. It saved me." He looked up into Derek's eyes. "I love you Derek. I've loved you since before this, before Mexico. I loved you the moment I met you out in the preserve that day." 

"I love you too." Derek stroked his cheek, brushing away his tears. Stiles slid his hand down Derek's torso towards his groin, but Derek caught his wrist in his other hand. "No."

Stiles frowned, confused. 

"Not tonight. Not while you're this shaken up." Derek wrapped Stiles' long arm around his neck and nuzzled into his hair, inhaling his scent deeply. 

"I'm ready for the bite." Stiles whispered. "I'm ready for us." 

Derek squeezed him even tighter. "After you've spoken to your dad...and Scott...and Lydia. I want you to be absolutely sure, Stiles. Promise me." 

"I will. I promise." 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Scott! Get off me!" Stiles tried to wriggle off the beanbag, flailing his limbs wildly. "That's an order!" 

"Derek's here." Isaac laughed. "You're not in charge, he is." He flung himself down on top of the grappling duo. 

"Derek. Get them off!" 

Derek crossed his arms over his chest and laughed. It was belly deep and eye wrinkling and genuine. "I did warn you, new Mate-marks drive the urge to scent each other." 

"Yeah I feel it too." Stiles put his palm on Scott's cheek and pushed it hard. Allison grabbed his hand and held it against her cheek, allowing Scott to clamp back onto him. "But there are nine of you and only one of me!"  

"I'm sorry." Derek lied, stroking the fresh pink mark on Stiles' neck. Stiles relented the fight for a moment to nuzzle Derek's hand. "I think you'll be okay." 

He knelt to bring their foreheads together, Stiles rubbed the tips of their noses together, tickling Derek's and making him huff in surprise. 

"Yeah." he grinned broadly. "I think we will."


End file.
